


Charmed

by Notoyax17



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Insanity, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notoyax17/pseuds/Notoyax17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On those days, when he slept, it felt as if he were drowning. Covered and filled up to the brim with that bright shimmering blue. But he didn’t fear the drowning. He didn’t fear the never ending caress of the blue. Somehow, he felt freed. And on those nights, in those dreams, he felt...he <em>was</em>, happy. In love.</p>
<p><em>Charmed</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The chapters for this are probably going to be pretty short (with longer ones randomly). If someone would like to help me as a beta or refer me to one, I will love you forever.
> 
> Please, always feel free to advise me on ways to improve this.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, please feel free to use any ideas found in this fic for your own stories as long as you let me know.

On those days, when he slept, it felt as if he were drowning. Covered and filled up to the brim with that bright shimmering blue. But he didn’t fear the drowning. He didn’t fear the never ending caress of the blue. Somehow, he felt freed. And on those nights, in those dreams, he felt...he _was_ , happy. In love.

 _Charmed_.

Clint’s eyes snapped open. He stared up at his room’s tall ceiling for a long moment before he clamped his eyes back shut tightly and brought his hands up to press the heels of his palms against his eyelids. Shaky silent breaths stumbled out of him as he tried to get a hold of himself. Clint let a full minute pass before he finally pulled his hands away. He let his head fall to the left and didn’t so much as bat an eyelid at the sight of his former handler sitting at the edge of his bed, watching him with that vague expression of concern, his lips turned down ever so slightly.

Clint rolled over onto his side to face the man before pulling the blankets over his head. “Jarvis, turn off the audio monitoring and recording until further notice.” The archer ordered.

“Yes, Agent Barton. Would you like me to turn off the video surveillance as well?” the AI inquired politely.

Clint just sighed softly and closed his eyes. “Nope, I’m good.” He said. The last thing he needed was to raise Tony or Nat’s suspicions when they couldn’t check in on a member of their team.

“Still having nightmares?” Phil asked; a touch curious, a touch gentle.

“Might be weirder if I weren’t.” Clint muttered from his cocoon.

“That doesn’t make it okay. You know that.” Clint didn’t even need to see the man to know he was tilting his head, one eyebrow slightly raised.

Clint just sighed softly and rolled away from his handler. The bed seemed to dip as Coulson pressed a hand against it to brace himself as he leaned to hover over the large mass of blankets and archer. They stayed like that for several minutes in silence, with Coulson’s presence just bearing over him. Until finally, Coulson was the one to break the silence.

“I wouldn’t have wanted this. Not for you.”

It was said quietly. Not in a whisper, but all the same so quiet Clint almost didn’t hear him. Clint’s hands curled into fists as he clutched at the blanket wrapped around him. He jerked up suddenly and climbed out of the bed, pulling on an old pair of sweats before leaving, not bothering to glance back at the empty room behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr  
> [Notoyax17](http://notoyax17.tumblr.com/)  
> The Headcanon Tumblr  
> [Avengers BroTP Headcanons](http://avengersbrotpheadcanons.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. So second chapter. I'm playing around with this, but there is actually something resembling a plot in mind.
> 
> Anyway, tell me how you liked it and if there are any mistakes in there.

The arrow flew straight, hitting its mark exactly where Clint wanted it. It always did. That, at least, hadn’t changed. Clint kept the bow held up and steady, despite the strain it had long since started putting on his arms. Despite the way his fingers had begun to bleed.

Clint took a slow deep breath before reaching back and pulling out another arrow. As he drew the bow, there was a moment, just brief enough that if his eyes had been closed, his clothes a bit thicker, that he wouldn’t have noticed it. He wouldn’t have seen the length of one arm out of the corner of his eye, covered in black cloth and gold plating, pointing with one slender finger the path his arrow was meant to take. He wouldn’t have felt the other arm set gently and yet firm on his shoulder. He wouldn’t have felt the need to immediately, instinctively, lean wholeheartedly into a touch that he knew wasn’t really there.

Clint closed his eyes tightly and found himself lowering the bow, his whole body slumping to bend half way, as if only now realizing just how utterly exhausted it was.

“Hey.” He said quietly. There was an absentminded hum from somewhere (4.56 meters behind him, at his seven, he couldn’t even pretend to himself that he didn’t know that without looking), just acknowledging the statement to show that they were listening.

“Do you think I’m going crazy?” Clint asked, barely above a whisper. Even with the audio monitoring turned off – it seemed like he was doing that all the time these days – Clint couldn’t help but feel self conscious about it. He slowly lowered himself down into a sitting position, casting a glance over his shoulder at the man sitting on the benches typing away at a tablet. The movement paused.

“I think you’re coping. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

Clint twitched and couldn’t help the scowl that crept onto his lips as he glared at the man. “How could this be _anything_ other than a bad thing,” he hissed, “I’m losing my _mind!_ It…I can’t even trust my own eyes anymore. And it’s like I’m blinded or something, because of _course_ he had to take this from me too. And, _God Phil,_ I…I actually _loved_ him under that. How do I even come back from that? H-how can I…” he stuttered to a stop, voice having grown increasingly panicked as his hands moved over his face to clutched at his hair as he doubled over. He sat still for a long moment before finally looking over his shoulder though unable to meet Coulson’s eyes, his gaze resting on the man’s shoes. “How can I even look at you knowing I felt that way?” he asked softly.

“Love.”

Clint’s eyes shot up to Phil’s face instinctively, utterly confused.

“You love him. Present tense.” Clint twitched and frowned deeply.

“ _Past_ tense.”

“Present tense.” Phil stood and made his way over to Clint, somehow both casual and careful about his movement. He sat down slowly next to the archer, legs stretched out neatly in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. His palms lay flat on the floor at either side of him, half bracing his body as he stared straight ahead.

“Selvig and Martinez and Lowell were all taken by him, just as you were. But none of them were in love with him, were they?” Phil asked casually. Clint bit the inside of his lower lip and turned his gaze back to the range. Half a dozen once moving targets stood skewered, arrows placed in every vital spot several times over.

“You really suck as a coping mechanism, you know.” Clint sighed out, his position coming to mirror Coulson’s, his nails scratching into the floor as his curled his fingers into fists at his sides.

“I like to think I’m doing pretty well. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Clint glowered at the man out of the corner of his eyes. He let out an irritable huff of a sigh. “No,” a bitter laugh escaped him, “And what does that say about me?”

“That’s not the right question.” Clint looked up at that, but his former handler was still staring straight ahead, calm as you please. “What does that say about _him_? That he is worthy of your love?”

“He’s not.” Clint said immediately, vehemently. “He’s a monster, Phil, and you know it! The guy tried to take over the fucking world!”

Phil finally turned to look over at Clint. His head tilted back a bit and his eyes narrowed slowly. While his expression hadn’t changed much, the coldness that radiated off of him was enough to send a chill down Clint’s spine.

“And is that all he was? You were with him for several _days._ So he was, for that entire time, he was a crazed super villain, laughing maniacally and torturing people for shits and giggles? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?” he asked, his tone lowering into something just short of a growl as he spoke, leaning closer and closer until he seemed to be towering over Clint. Clint squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“Do you even believe that yourself?” Phil asked his voice now so soft. Clint’s eyes fluttered several times, as if unable to open fully. He pulled his legs back into a crossed position and leaned forward, pressing a palm into his forehead.

“No.” he whispered. And there was a memory there, in the back of his mind. A small smile, a flash of something warm in those worn features as Loki turned away from him, head dipped and blinking slowly. Clint let out a breathless huff of a laugh. “ _Oh_ my god, I’m so fucked.” He muttered.

“You definitely are.”

Clint jerked up, his back suddenly rod straight as he shot a glance over his shoulder. Natasha stood at the door watching him with her arms crossed. Her head tilted to one side as she raised an eyebrow casually.

“…H- _hey_ Nat.” he said, trying a bit too hard for casual and missing the mark by a mile.

Her eyes narrowed slightly and she made her way over to him, managing to gracefully plop down into the spot Phil once inhabited.

“Hands.” She ordered.

Clint immediately offered his hands to her, only vaguely surprised to see open up a med kit and start tending to his wounds. He tried not to think about where she’d gotten it from.

Natasha’s hands were swift and deft as she worked. They sat in silence for several minutes before Clint finally sighed.

“How long were you standing there for?”

“Long enough.”

Clint looked up and met her eyes. She stared back at him for a long moment. A tiny crinkle formed in her brow and Clint realized, sort of belatedly, that she was trying to read him. That she’d needed to at all told him how little she’d heard. When her lips tipped down slightly, he realized that she knew he was aware of that.

“Do I need to be worried?” she asked.

Rather than answer immediately, Clint allowed himself a moment to actually think about that. “Not yet.” He said after a beat. “I’m coping. Sort of.”

She blinked and gave him a single curt nod. Natasha slowly rose to her feet, not letting go of Clint’s hand, forcing him to rise with her lest he weigh her down. “Tony’s teaching Steve how to make burritos.” She said as she led him out of the range with their fingers intertwined, her lips quirking up.

Clint snorted, “How does Tony know how to make burritos?”

“Bruce is teaching him.”

Clint raised an eyebrow at that. “Teaching? As in present tense?”

That quirk turned into a full blown smirk.

“Present tense.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr  
> [Notoyax17](http://notoyax17.tumblr.com/)  
> The Headcanon Tumblr  
> [Avengers BroTP Headcanons](http://avengersbrotpheadcanons.tumblr.com/)


End file.
